


Super Psych'd

by leftdragonpainter



Category: Psych, Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, Chuck is God, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Flashbacks, Humor, Monsters, Swearing, Vampires, brothers being brothers, slight destiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 10:50:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8324950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leftdragonpainter/pseuds/leftdragonpainter
Summary: While murder in Santa Barbara wasn't unusual, the latest rash of murders have been. They were so strange that even the fake psychic detective Shawn Spencer couldn't wrap his head around how to solve it.Meanwhile, the Winchester's and Castiel run across articles that point blatantly to a vamp nest to their trained hunter's eyes.What will happen when they all meet up?





	1. SPENCER!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Alright so I may have been binging both SPN and Psych the last couple weeks. This is what happens.  
> Extra notes: 1) takes place after mark of Cain removal but NO DARKNESS in SPN verse  
> 2) it takes place before Juliet and Shawn get together in Psych verse.  
> 3) I'm mainly writing this to sedate my craving for a crossover of these two 'verses.
> 
> As always COMMENTS!!! (subtle I know) and kudos. :)  
> The rating may change if I (probably) decide to add in relationships later.  
> Gabi  
> <3<3<3

_Santa Barbara, California_

 

Carlton Lassiter lifted the sheet covering the latest victim. She had been found in an alleyway that morning. Another young woman with her throat ripped out in some kind of ritualistic killing. Or, he hoped, wild animal. He shook his head. Even Spencer wasn’t able to come up with some bizarre theory for this one so far; which was a first. The bodies had started dropping over a month ago, all women, all young, all throats done the same and all drained of blood. Whoever this killer was was one sick bastard.

He glanced over to the crowd behind the police tape. Spencer and Guster were there as usual, held back by McNabb. He was hesitant to call them over, to have them do their thing on this one. But with the chief away for the next few weeks (vacation) he was in charge, and like hell if Carlton Lassiter was going to lower himself---

“Hey Lassie!” Shawn Spencer yelled out and waved over at the bean pole detective.

“Shawn, will you behave? This is a crime scene.” Burton Guster chided beside him in a mock whisper.

“Dude. If I don’t yell, how will he know that we’re over here?” Shawn argued.

“Uh, Shawn. I’m pretty sure he knows.” Gus looked to Lassiter, now glaring at them. He watched as Lassiter seemed to be fighting with himself over something. He pinched his nose and yelled over. “McNabb! Send the idiots over!”

Shawn and Gus practically skipped over to the dead body like school children running out to recess. Then Gus took one look at the mutilated neck of the victim, started his gulping, swallowing sound, whimpered and ran off to hide back in the Blueberry.

Lassiter rolled his eyes. He glanced at Spencer exasperated. “You would think that Guster would be over that by now.”

“You would think. But you’re forgetting that Burton Guster is a giant baby wearing man pants.” Shawn squinted as he took in all he could on the body, observing everything about her. _Hair needed a dye job, nails had no polish, sorority necklace…_ Well that’s new at least. He glanced up at Lassiter, then around the crime scene. “Where’s Juliet?”

“Detective O’Hara is back at the precinct following up on some leads. And I’d appreciate it if you’d leave her alone. Now do you have anything helpful to add, Spencer? Or do you need to go back to playing laser tag with Guster?” Lassiter waved around sarcastically.

“Shows what you know, Lassie. Gus and I play laser tag once a month and that was two nights ago.” Shawn replied sarcastically.

Lassiter rolled his eyes, groaning. He looked back over at the crowd, defeated by who he saw. “Ah geesh. The feds are here.”

Three men, all tall, one more than the other two, approached. Two were in well fitted suits, the third draped in a trench coat.

Shawn squinted. “Doesn’t he know it’s like seventy-five degrees right now?”

“What do you expect?” Lassiter shrugged. “They’re feds.”

 

_One Week Earlier…_

_Lebanon, Kansas_

 

“So get this…” Sam Winchester began, sitting up eagerly in front of his laptop. His brother Dean rolled his eyes. He had barely stepped into the bunker’s library when Sam’s enthusiasm for a new case attacked him. Castiel, their pet angel, though Dean wouldn’t say it out loud, wasn’t more than a few steps behind him. The imagery of Cas in a dog collar made him smirk, then paused considering. He cleared his throat and discreetly adjusted himself as he sat down.

“Apparently there have been a rash of murders out in California. Throats torn out, blood drained. All the vics were young women.” Sam scrolled through the police reports he had already hacked into to get more info than the original news clipping had provided.

“Vamps?” Dean asked, sitting across from his younger brother. He crossed his feet up on the table, then leaned back in the chair.

“Looks like.” Sam frowned. He had only been back to California once since Jessica had died. And that trip hadn’t ended well either.

Cas sat down next to Dean, his trademark trench coat missing. He had started to leave it off when it was just the three of them in the bunker. “So, where in California? When do we leave?”

“Santa Barbara. Looks like we might actually get some beach time for once.” Sam grinned.

“That’s great, but I don’t do shorts.” Dean griped.

“Really? So what do you call those things you were wearing the other day to wash the Impala?” Cas tilted his head in confusion. He had been certain that those were shorts. Sam laughed.

“Shut your pie holes. The both of you.” Dean snarked, red faced, leaving them to go prep Baby for the road trip.

They left the next morning as soon as they were packed. The drive was exhausting; Dean even allowed Sam to drive for a stretch. By the time they arrived at their motel several days later, it was late. When Dean awoke the next morning it was to Sam already wearing his FBI gear, saying. “There’s been another attack. Get dressed.”

 

_One hour later…_

 

They pulled up to the taped off crime scene, pulling up next to a tiny, blue car. A good-looking black man in the front seat seemed to be having a panic attack. Dean arched a brow and threw Baby into park. As Sam and Dean reached for the handles to escape the confines of the front seat, Cas stopped them. “Wait.”

“What is it, Cas?” Dean looked over his shoulder at his friend. The angel appeared worried for some unknown reason. He pointed out the windshield at the tall uniformed officer holding back the on-lookers.

“That man there. I… I could have sworn that was the vessel of the angel I…” Cas stopped, looking shaken.

“That you what, Cas?” Sam prompted.

Cas turned to face Dean instead, looking ashamed. “The grace I stole.”

“You sure?” Dean questioned, his gaze shifting between the officer and the angel.

The memory of slicing open that angel’s neck to steal his grace wasn’t something that Castiel would ever forget. Cas nodded. “I’m sure. But I’m also sure that that vessel was dead. Something’s going on here.”

“Well unless he attacks you, how about we all just keep it cool for now.” Dean stated.

 


	2. AGENT COLLINS!!!!!

They approached the crime scene, flashing their badges at the vessel look-alike officer standing at the barricade. Sam paused as he passed Officer McNabb. It was rare for the hunter to meet anyone who was as tall as he was. Or taller. Sam squinted up at the man who dared to be an inch above him.

Dean flashed his badge at the lanky detective and oddly acting civilian – who was performing some kind of stretching dance. Was that a shimmy? Dean rolled his eyes. The things he sees on these cases; he should write a book. “I’m Special Agent Collins. These are my partners Agent Gabriel,” he pointed first to Sam and followed with a nod to Cas, “And Agent Ackles. What do you have to tell us about these murders?”

“This is head detective Carlton Lassiter of the Santa Barbara police department. But his friends call him Susan Twinkle-toes…”

“ _Spencer._ ” The detective barked out in warning.

“And I am the department’s head psychic, Shawn Spencer. I also go by Keith Nelson.” The odd man with a choker necklace and fabulous hair continued to do the introductions.

“Wasn’t that Eric Stoltz’s character in _Some Kind of Wonderful_?” Dean countered. He was still not sure about the validity of the man being a psychic- he’d get Cas to mind meld him later- but the man knew his 80’s references.

Sam looked over at his older brother with a surprised brow raise. “Why do you know that?”

“How do you _not_ know that? It’s like one of Stoltz’s best…” Dean argued, stopping his tirade in it’s tracks when Cas set a hand on his shoulder. “Right. Perhaps now isn’t the time. So you were saying?”

The lanky Mr. Bean-ish detective slung off his aviators and went into a what he considered to be a brutally vivid description of the past several crime scenes. He liked to shock people with his bluntness when he could get away with it. This one though, he didn’t even need to embellish on when he talked about the previous victims. He shook his head, ears blatantly sticking out from the military short haircut. “I gotta tell you, these are by far the worst crime scenes I’ve ever encountered.”

Sam by now had lifted the sheet covering the victim to check out the wounds. Definite vamp attack. Dean glanced down at the torn, half-eaten neck, ligaments and blood still dripping from the woman’s slender neck, and pursed his lips in disgust. Sam had always been better dealing with the gross autopsy stuff than he had. But he had to admit, it was pretty tame in their books of overkill. He shrugged, “Eh. Seen worse.”

Hell, he’s _done_ worse.

“Seriously?” Detective Lassiter squeaked, looking down at the body as though trying to study with new eyes based on the agents information.

Cas nodded and threw in his two cents. “Oh yes. Why just last week we had to deal with…”

“Agent Ackles, perhaps now isn’t the best time to be telling that one.” Dean coughed, hoping that the angel would take the hint. They didn’t need to be sharing anything about the rugaru they dealt with last week. Those were almost as gross as witches in his opinion. Dean decided to take pity on the detective, who for the life of him seemed familiar. “Besides it’s not as though Santa Barbara is the murder capital of the world or anything.”

The detective and psychic shared a look.

“Detective, if its possible we’d like to take a look at the autopsy reports on the previous victims. Then we’d like to check out where these attacks took place.” Sam stood to his full height, towering over the detective.

“Of course. Everything is back at the station.” Lassiter nodded.

*****

Gus pulled Shawn aside when they arrived at the station, knowing that he was delaying Shawn annoying the pretty blonde junior detective. “Shawn. We’ve come up against some weird things since you dragged us into this. But this case? It’s just plain creepy and weird and…” he paused trying to find the right words. “Not _natural._ ”

“Gus don’t be the little eggplant that could.” Shawn tsked and threw his head back mockingly.

“It’s the little engine that could Shawn.”

“I’ve heard it both ways.”

“No you haven’t Shawn.”

“Man. Whatever. This case just got a thousand times more interesting. The FBI are here man. You know what that means?” Shawn bounced on his toes excitedly.

“No Shawn. You cannot ask them if you can look at their top secret _non-existent_ files on Roswell.” Gus rolled his eyes.

“Come on, Gus. It’ll be fun.” Shawn smirked, dragging his friend back over to Lassiter’s desk, where the tallest FBI agent was scrolling through the police reports.

“Agent Gabriel. Finding anything helpful?” Shawn grinned, perching on the edge of Lassie’s desk.

The agent lifted his eyes briefly from the computer screen and simply said “Yes,” before regluing his eyes to the poorly updated system. If he had had the inclination he would update it for them.

“Spencer!” Lassiter barked as he walked over, carrying a file and his mug of coffee. “Get your waste of department funding butt off of my desk.”

Sam snorted, covering it up quickly with a cough.

“Ah, come on Lassie. I’m just offering my services to the agent here.” Shawn whined.

Sam arched a brow.

“Well, why don’t you take you and your services someplace that’s not here. Us adults have some real detective work to do.” Lassiter said coldly, his patience wearing thin.

Gus rolled his eyes, and huffed out a breath. He should have just stayed on his route today instead of coming when Shawn called.

“Fine. I’ll go and see if Jules wants any of my services.” Shawn smirked heading towards the evidence locker.

“Don’t be weird Spencer. And It’s Detective O’Hara.” Lassiter called after him. Turning to the agent sitting at his desk, he sighed. “I am so sorry that you had to see that.”

Sam chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not much worse than working with Agent Collins.”

 


	3. Haven't I Stabbed You In The Face Before?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay okay okay. Don't go getting your hopes up that I'm back. I just happened to get inspired and was able to knock this chapter out fast. Still technically on hiatus. Consider this an early holiday gift! That means I love you guys more than my family cus they ain't getting squat!  
> Enjoy! Kudos and Comments and yada yada  
> Gabi  
> <3<3<3

While Sam was dealing with Detective Lassiter, Castiel was in one of the larger offices looking over evidence with a Detective O’Hara. He remained quiet as she pulled out bag upon bag of bloody clothes and hair fibers and ticket stubs and other miscellaneous items discovered at the crime scenes. Castiel was now certain that they were dealing with vampires by the amount of blood that had soaked through each victims clothing, as well as the stench the monsters had left behind.

Dean might not have found his abilities regarding scent detection useful in the past, but it didn’t mean that it wasn’t. Though he wished he had been able to follow Dean down into the morgue to help with the bodies; he was certain he could find microscopic evidence that the coroner was sure to miss. It wasn’t that he wanted to stay by Dean’s side or anything.

“So that’s all we have. Just a lot of pretty, young women brutally murdered for no reason that we can see. They have no connections that we’ve been able to find.” Juliet O’Hara frowned. She really hoped that she wouldn’t have to go undercover for this one. It had been hell trying to get out of the Suzie Sorority mindset from the last time she went under.

“I doubt that you will have to go undercover for this Detective.” Agent Ackles said without looking over to her, his eyes currently absorbed with the bag of bloody clothing he was holding, studying as though it contained the answers to the universe. He missed the way her eyes widened, shocked, by his words.

“What?” Juliet squeaked. How the hell did he know…? She hadn’t spoken that fear out loud. At all.

Castiel’s head snapped up at her shocked tone. He took a deep breath, realizing his mistake. He blinked. He really should start taking Dean’s advice about not reading human minds. Or at least stop acknowledging what he was hearing. “My partners and I will be sure to stop these murders before you will have to go undercover, Detective O’Hara.”

“Juliet.” She corrected the blue eyed agent automatically. She glanced into the station, hoping that their conversation wouldn’t be overheard, she lowered her voice. “How did you know that was what I was thinking? Are you a psychic as well? Like Shawn?”

Castiel tilted his head, frowning. He had sensed no special abilities in the so called ‘head psychic’ of the Santa Barbara police department. He really should delve into Shawn Spencer’s mind at some point to confirm whether or not his ‘abilities’ were real. He glanced at Juliet’s soul; she was hopeful, kind, caring, strong. While Castiel thought that she might be able to handle it, perhaps the lie would be easier for her to accept than the truth of him being an actual Angel of the Lord. Nodding slowly, he said. “I am... _psychic_ , in a sense. Not the same as Shawn Spencer though.”

Juliet nodded, easily accepting the lie. She let out a sigh as she looked over the pile of evidence on the table. Standing, she grinned, a piece of blonde hair falling into her face. “You know what? I’m tired of looking at this. Wanna go see if your partner has found anything on the bodies?”

Castiel bobbed his head and followed her lead.

*****

At the same time that Cas was going over the evidence with the pretty blonde detective, Dean had made his way down to the morgue. It was empty when he swung the doors open to the freezing tiled room, excluding the dead body laid out on the slab. Dean rolled his eyes and glanced around as he waited for the coroner to show up.

He didn’t have to wait long however, when the slightly bald man entered.

And not two seconds after he stepped into the morgue that Dean had him slammed up into the wall, a knife pressed against his throat. He growled out in a threatening voice, low enough for only the man in the white lab coat to hear. “You sonofabitch.”

Woody squeaked, eyes wide. He dropped the sandwich he had been eating and held up his jelly covered hands in surrender. “Hey, hey, hey. Normally I need a safe word before I do this kind of thing. Or at least an introduction. Not to say that I’m unwilling but set down guidelines first.”

Dean squinted, not lowering the blade.

“Give me one good reason not to stab you in the face again.” Dean threatened. How the fuck was Zachariah still alive? And when the hell did he go crazy?

“Again?” Woody looked the attractive man over, trying to place him, but unable to. He snapped his fingers and took a legitimate guess. “Wait were you the guy in the Zorro mask at the orgy last month? Look, I apologize for not calling but my hands were sweaty and there was no way that your number was going to…”

“Dude. What the fuck?” Dean stepped back, dropping his arm. Perhaps this wasn’t Zachariah after all. What the hell was going on here? First Cas sees an angel he killed and now Dean has met someone who wasn’t an angel he had killed. Pointing at the doppelgänger with the blade Dean asked, “Who the hell are you? Start talking.”

“I’m Woody. I’m the coroner here. Pleased to meet you.” He held out his hand, completely unfazed by Dean’s earlier actions.

Dean eyed the appendage as though he were about to get smited. Smote? Whatever. He wouldn’t have put it past Zachariah to somehow manage to slither his way back into existence. Dean put his blade away before carefully taking the coroner’s hand. “Uh, I’m Agent Collins. I’m here investigating the cases of the murdered women. The ones with their throats torn out, drained of blood. And uh, sorry about that. Just reminded me of someone.”

Woody laughed, waving the apology aside. “Don’t worry about it. If I had a dollar for every time someone held a knife to my throat, I could retire. This one time at a furry party the wife’s husband walked in unexpectedly and…”

Dean cleared his throat, uncomfortable. “How ‘bout we focus on the case alright?”

The bizarre coroner opened the files on all the murdered women, going over each victim’s case thoroughly. And more competently than Dean had been expecting after their first meeting. His head was swimming with unwanted images. Furries? Orgies? Vampires? Jesus Santa Barbara was not what he had been expecting.

He had the sinking feeling that things were about to turn even stranger.


	4. Dad Did What??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ..flashback filler... that is all...

_1987 Santa Barbara_

“Dammit Shawn!” Henry called out in frustration. He had told the kid not to go wandering into that old abandoned building. But who was he kidding, that kid had a damn high curiosity and had absolutely no sense. But what else had he expected Shawn to do when Henry had the night shift patrolling and couldn’t keep a closer eye on him?

It was late, and with no moon in the sky, extremely dark out. Taking out his police issue flashlight, he used it to inspect the broken lock on the front door. Damn place was condemned. It was a good thing that Guster had enough common sense to call and tell him what Shawn was up to before he got himself hurt.

He swung open the door and yelled out. “Dammit Shawn!” A more than common phrase in the house lately. “Where the hell are-mphwnu!”

Before he knew what hit him, Henry was slammed up against the wall, a forceful hand over his mouth. A harsh male voice whispered, “Shush, you don’t want it to find you.”

The man backed away slowly, raising a finger to his lips. Normally, Henry would have arrested anyone who had assaulted him that way. But the tension and military-like focus gave him pause.

The man turned, lifting a small car battery, and made his way towards the back of the house. Henry followed and readied his weapon. The man, wearing a heavy leather jacket turned to him, arching a brow. “You might want to use your taser instead. Guns won’t work on it.”

Won’t work on what?, Henry thought. Better to err on the side of caution, he didn’t really want to file a weapons discharge report just because his son was being an idio-

Faster than he could blink, someone, _something_ rushed past him, knocking him over. It did the same to the man who was shouting at him to use his taser. Henry always prided himself at keeping his cool in every situation, outside of dealing with Shawn of course, but in that moment he was freaking as the _creature_ \- he couldn’t even believe he was thinking that- turned to stalk him. Ignoring what the stranger was yelling he shot off his gun. The bullets may as well have been blanks for all the good it did to slow it down.

“Hey!” The other man shouted as he clamped the jumpers into the creature. Bolts of electricity radiated around it. It shook, frozen and disappeared.

Henry blinked.

Henry was a rational man.

Henry was a rational cop.

Henry was a decorated cop.

Henry needed to stop thinking about himself in third person and realize that he had just seen something he wouldn’t have believed if he hadn’t seen it.

He still didn’t believe it.

“What the hell was that!” Henry shouted as he got up off the dirty floor. He glared at the man as he powered off the battery, and set the cables carefully atop it. “And who the hell are you! I should have you arrested. What the hell was that!”

The dark haired, blue eyed man smiled tightly. “I’m John Winchester. And that was a Rawhead. Likes abandoned places and kids. It’s what some might call a supernatural being.”

“You’re crazy.”

“You saw it for yourself. Now do you need help finding this Shawn or whoever? I got a couple kids that need fed soon.” The man, John, sighed tiredly.

They found Shawn easily. He was passed out with a small bump on the back of his head. With any luck he wouldn’t remember anything. Henry didn’t know what to think or how to rationalize what had happened that night. But he knew that he owned the man. He was sure that without John, his son might not have lived through the night.

Before John could walk away, Henry called out. “Do you like steak?”

John smiled. “My sons and I love steak. Though the little one prefers vegetables. Weird kid. But,” he paused narrowing his eyes at the patrolman. “We don’t like too many questions. There are things that go bump in the night and I hunt them, and that’s all you need to know.”

“Fair enough.” Henry nodded….

 

_Present Day_

 

The day spent at the precinct had gone fairly quickly with all three of the hunters/angel working different angles between evidence, reports, and autopsy. They regrouped back at the motel to discuss the case with enough food to feed an entire army platoon.

Or Dean.

“Man, I tell you what, this jerk chicken is amazing!” Dean moaned around a forkful. Cas rolled his eyes, though he was always amused by Dean’s enthusiasm for food. Sam ignored him, picking at his salad while going over Dad’s journal out of habit.

He sat up suddenly as he reread a page he had memorized years ago. But it wasn't until now that he remembered about it being there. “Hey guys. So get this, apparently Dad was in Santa Barbara years ago.”

“Let me see that.” Dean yanked the leather bound journal across the small kitchenette table to read the entry.

 

_June 1987 Santa Barbara, Cali._

_Helped H.S. recover his son S. from a run of the mill Rawhead. Easily destroyed by electrocution. Decent man for a high strung cop. Good steak. Gave him the talk at dinner._

 

Dean leaned back in the chair, thinking back over his childhood. He smiled briefly. “Yeah, I vaguely remember that. Not the Rawhead part, but the steak. That dude could grill. Wonder if he’s still around?”

“So what, Dean? You just going to go over to the man’s house and be all, ‘My dad helped you in the 80’s. You got any steak?’ Cus I don’t think that would go down very well.” Sam laughed.

“Shut up bitch.” Dean tossed the journal back.

Sam caught it. “Jerk.”

Castiel cleared his throat. "You know, if he was given the 'talk'," Dean grinned at his use of finger quotes. "He might have kept an eye out on the strange instances that have gone on over the years. Perhaps he might be able to tell us something."

Sam and Castiel shot puppy dog eyes at Dean, knowing that he would be the one to make the decision. While he had been joking about finding the man for steak, he was hesitant about finding him for information. But it was a lead and he couldn't ignore it. Or those damn blue eyes. "Fine. But we remain agents and we don't tell him that we knew John. It's more than likely Dad screwed him over somehow."

"Fair enough." Sam grinned, and went back to his salad.

Castiel sat with a small smile on his face, glad to help in any way he could.


	5. YOU KNOW THAT'S RIGHT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slightly Bieber bashing in case any one gives a shit. (I don't)  
> Since it's been so long since I updated anything I made this chapter longer. May be hinting at future slashing in this. How do ya'll feel about (obvious) Destiel, and (possible) Sam/Juliet and Shawn/Lassiter?  
> Comments, kudos and yada yada  
> Gabi  
> <3<3<3  
> PS come stalk me on twitter! @leftdrgnpaintr

“Wood-man! What’s shaking?” The psychic shouted out as he entered the room. The black man that Dean had noticed earlier followed closely behind, holding a Styrofoam tray of…Dean sniffed? Jerk chicken? Dean’s stomach growled. It wasn’t that he hadn’t already had it five times in two days. The stuff was addictive.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite psychic and his hetero life partner come to visit.” Woody said with a smile.

Another body had dropped the night before. Another pretty blonde woman in her early twenties. At least the monster of the week had a type, might make it easier to track down. Except…There were too many bodies dropping for anyone’s comfort. Even Dean’s. Despite his own hesitation, Dean knew that he would have to find the police officer that their father had worked with years ago and see if he could help.

“Shawn. Will you stop sniffing the body?” Gus pulled his partner back by his shoulders.

“But Gus! You know I need to tap into my psychic resonances with _all_ my senses in order to help solve this …this…What happened to her again?” Shawn squinted between the body and Woody.

“Well if I was going to go with my first instinct, I’d say a vampire got this woman. But then,” Woody said excitedly, pointing his pen in the air. “Then I realized that the massive wound on her neck was far too large. No straw sized puncture wounds here. No sir-ee-bob.”

Dean rolled his eyes, wishing that for once he had stayed behind to do research. But that task had been left to Cas while Sam and Detective O’Hara finished interviewing the witnesses. Not that there were many. This victim at least had been part of a sorority at one of the local colleges. Talking to strung out millenials about the death of one of their friends was not on Dean’s list of fun things to do. Last time he had to do it the kid was listening to Bieber. It had taken all of Dean’s willpower not to shoot the kid right there.

Shawn turned to Gus and practically jumped with childlike enthusiasm. “If this were a case with vampires Gus, you could finally wear your Blackula costume.”

“You know that’s right.” Gus agreed, then continued to devour his meal.

Dean cleared his throat. “Can we get back to the case at hand, please?” He didn’t used to have a problem with vampire cases, but that was before purgatory and before Benny. “So, uh, Shawn? Can you get anything off the body?”

Shawn shook his head. “No. Sadly the spirits are being stubbornly silent. Perhaps there is someone here who doesn’t believe and is blocking the energies I need to see beyond the Veil.” Shawn narrowed his eyes at Dean, suspiciously.

Dean stared him down. Crossing his arms, he raised a brow. He wished that he could say what he was really thinking _, ‘Oh I believe in real psychics Mr. Spencer. As well as a lot of other things. But you aren’t a real psychic, you’re a fraud.’_ But Dean wasn’t much better, pretending to be a federal agent. “Guess we will just have to investigate the old fashioned way then.”

*****

“So, Detective O’Hara, I was wondering if you might be able to help me with something.” Sam sat slightly on the corner edge of her desk sometime later. He smiled down at the pretty blonde, working his charm.

Clearly it was producing the desired effect as she bat her lashes at him. They had spent most of the day together interviewing witnesses. They didn’t get much from the girls at the sororities, but she didn’t get the impression that the handsome agent was too bothered by the lack of progress in the case. “What can I do for you, Agent Gabriel?”

“Please. It’s Sam. And I was hoping that you might be able to help me track someone down. A former cop actually. He helped my dad years ago on a case but all I have are his initials.”

“Probably. Why do you need to find him?” she asked, curious.

“Honestly? I was just wondering if he was still around and kicking. My dad spoke highly of him before he died,” Sam said smoothly. It wasn’t a lie exactly but there was no way he could admit the truth to a civilian. In hunter’s terms anyways.

She nodded and pulled up the search screen on her computer. “Do you know what year?”

“Eighty-seven. His initials were H.S.” Sam turned, placing one arm around the back of her chair and the other on the desk, caging her in.

It took a minute for the information to load. Juliet smiled when she saw the name appear on the blue tinted screen. “Henry Spencer. The only officer that year with those initials.”

“Does it say where I could find him?” He leaned in closer, close enough to smell her apple scented shampoo. Hell, she could probably smell his all natural eucalyptus shampoo on him that Dean consistently teased him about using.

“No.” Juliet smiled though, like she was trying to hold in a secret.

“Oh.” Disappointed, Sam began to lean back.

“However,” she placed a hand over his, stopping him. Her thumb stroked the sensitive skin of his wrist. She gestured with her free hand across the room to an older man wearing a garish mess of a shirt. He was arguing with the Santa Barbara Police Department’s ‘Head Psychic’. “He’s talking with Shawn right now. His son.”

*****

“Dammit Shawn! For the last time, I want you to back off of the case.” Henry ran a hand across his scalp. Generations of Spencer men and not a single one bald. Then Shawn turned into a teenager and that happy tradition went to hell.

“Why? Because you don’t want to see me one up those fancy FBI guys?” Shawn taunted, not the least bit put off by his father’s blustering. If only Gus was here to witness this particular blow out. Darn his ‘real job’ with it’s ‘real hours’ and ‘real paychecks’.

“No Shawn. Because this case is… it’s just dangerous. I don’t want you to get hurt.” Henry argued, appearing embarrassed by his show of concern.

“Right. Like I’m going to get hurt any worse than when I was run off the road by the spelling bee dad.” Shawn laughed, before taking a sip of his delicious pineapple smoothie.

“Mister Spencer?” Sam asked, coming up beside the pair.

“What?” They answered simultaneously, though Henry was a lot louder and angrier sounding.

“Uh,” startled, Sam cleared his throat before attempting to speak again. Damn if this man didn’t remind him of his own father. “Mister Henry Spencer? Do you mind if I speak with you for a moment? In private.” He added pointedly, gesturing to the empty conference room behind them. When they entered, Sam the door to any prying ears.

“Look, you seem like you’re important, and probably working this butchered women case, am I right?” When Sam nodded, Henry continued. “Do me a favor, try to keep Shawn out of the investigation. He’s kind of a dumbass, and he’s going to get everyone around him hurt.”

“Trust me, my partners and I are trying to keep him out of it as best we can.” Sam adjusted his tie nervously. “Mister Spencer the reason I wanted to talk with you has nothing to do with the current case but rather one you worked on back in eighty-seven.”

Henry leaned against the table, crossing his beefy arms. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “I worked a lot of cases back then. You’re going to have to narrow it down.”

Sam straightened to his full height, meeting the older man’s gaze. “The one you worked with John Winchester.”

Recognition flickered in his eyes briefly. “Doesn’t sound familiar.”

“Well I know for a fact that you helped him. I also know that afterwards you invited him and his sons to dinner.” He added cagily, wondering which of them would be the first to fully admit to knowing the whole truth.

Henry narrowed his gaze even more, not that it should have been possible, turning the pupils into mere slits. “Who did you say you were again?”

“I didn’t. But while everyone out there,” Sam pointed to the rest of the station with a jerk of his thumb, “believes that I’m Agent Gabriel, you might remember me as Sam. Sam Winchester.”

Henry’s posture relaxed significantly. Oh yeah, he remembered working with John. Never forgot. And once he had learned the truth of what was out there, it had changed him utterly. Before he had a chance to speak, one of the other ‘agents’ popped his head into the conference room.

“Uh, Agent Gabriel?” He tossed the tall man a meaningful look, one that said ‘I may have found something, let’s go hunting’.

“Get in here,” Sam pulled his brother further into the room, shutting the door again. “Dean, you remember Henry Spencer, right?”

“Dammit Sammy! You told him, didn’t you? I told you we don’t need him on this.” While Sam might be known for his bitchfaces, Dean’s was just as harsh when it materialized.

“Yeah well, if you wanna get this vampire thing settled quickly, you’re gonna need my help.” Henry snarked with a slightly bored undertone. His words shut up the Dean quickly.


	6. IDJITS

The plan to hunt down the vampires was temporarily waylaid as they stepped out of the conference room, Henry Spencer trailing behind the hunters. A loud commotion could be heard coming from the front desk of the station. Papers were tossed into the air, and yelling between several officers and a prisoner echoed off the tiled walls. Sam and Dean exchanged a look before shrugging in unison and wandering closer.

“Alright, alright. Nothing to see here people. Back to work.” Lassiter waved off the onlookers with one hand. The other he had tightly clenched around a slightly older man in an orange jumpsuit. He gave him a shake. The head detective glared at the prisoner. “Your information better be damn good, Pete, or I’ll make you regret every choice you’ve ever made. Don’t think that I still haven’t forgotten what you did to Hank.”

As he dragged the bearded prisoner past the FBI agents, he barely noticed their reactions.

Both men were shocked with matching red faces, Dean’s freckles becoming more prominent. They were both close to tears. Sam whispered to his brother, “Was that…?”

Dean nodded. He knew that it was impossible. It couldn’t be… They had given him a full hunters funeral, _and_ put his spirit to rest. “Yeah,” he choked out. “Yeah. It was.”

“What the hell is going on here Dean? That was _Bobby_ for crying out loud!” Sam ran a frustrated hand through his hair. Turning to his big –shorter- brother for answers that he knew he didn’t have, Sam asked. “Do you think we got sent to another reality again?”

“What, like Earth Two where you married fake Ruby? Nah,” Dean shook his head. “We weren’t near anyone doing that ritual. Besides Cas still has his mojo right? That earth didn’t have magic.”

“Right. But… Bobby?” Sam asked incredulous about the whole situation. His eyes wandered over to the now empty hallway leading to the interrogation rooms that Lassiter had taken not-Bobby. Sam wished he had the Men of Letters library available to him so he could research what the hell what going on.

“Not our Bobby. Just like that morgue guy isn’t Zachariah McDouche-y-Wings. Or that Buzz guy isn’t the angel Cas had killed.” Dean shook his head to try and clear it. “All I know for sure, man, is that I want this case solved asap. Place is weird. Gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

“Oh. Hey guys!”                                                                  

The Winchester’s straightened at the man’s voice sounding behind them. Turning in unison, they relaxed slightly at who it was. But with the way things had been going so far, they knew it probably was yet another doppelgänger.

“Well, this is awkward. Wasn’t exactly expecting you to ever show up here.” The short bearded man rubbed his hands together nervously. He wore an ill-fitted suit, and carried a beat up briefcase at his side.

Dean narrowed his gaze. He could be wrong about this but he had to ask. “Chuck?”

The man – Chuck – smiled sheepishly.

“What the hell, Chuck? You’re here?” Sam asked disbelieving.

“What do you mean ‘you weren’t expecting us’?” Dean was teetering on the border of slipping into dangerous hunter mode. His fists clenched down at his sides, wishing that he had his blade with him. Something fishy was happening here.

“Well, the thing is guys…” Chuck started, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Mandlebaum! You coming or what? Get in here!” Lassiter shouted from the hallway.

Chuck jumped. Before he scurried away, he told the hunters with a calm smile. “I promise, I’ll explain everything later. But for now I gotta go before Lassiter kills me.”

Dean threw his hands up in the air. Addressing his brother, “Dude? What the fuck?”

“I have no idea.” Shrugging, Sam was even more confused than before.

*****                                                    

“So Chuck knew who you were? But then he answered to the name Mandlebaum?” Castiel tilted his head in the way he always did when he was trying to understand something. “Yet everyone else who is a double of someone we know or knew doesn’t. Interesting.”

“It’s not interesting, Cas. It’s annoying, and a waste of our time. We have other things to worry about.” Dean groaned from where he lay on the lumpy motel mattress. He covered his face with his arms. His brain hurt from dealing with all this. This was supposed to be just a simple vampire case. Just a quick decapitation and they could head back home. But when were the Winchester’s lives ever that simple?

“Well, what ever is going on here we will have to deal with later.” Sam was staring down at the map that was left laid out on the table. “Did you find anything while we were gone, Cas?”

“Yes. Wherever this vampire seems to be hiding, they stay within this ten block radius when hunting.” Moving next to Sam, he pointed out the area on the map. “I’d suggest that we start searching here for the nest. There are quite a few abandoned warehouses there.”

“Just once can’t the bad guys hide out in a well lit mansion?” Dean questioned.

“Well, we did meet Crowley in a nice mansion, remember?” Sam reminded his older brother.

 _“…did meet Crowley in a mansion…_ ” Dean mimicked, like the child he was. Grabbing his duffle, he headed towards the bathroom to change into his gear. “Just for that Sam, you get to stay here. I’m taking Cas with me to find this sonofabitch.”

“But…”

“Nope. You stay, and Cas goes with me.” He pointed a finger at between the two of them. Sam threw him a standard bitch face. “He had to stay behind today so he gets to go. Deal with it.”

“Sometimes you are such a child. Fine. You and Cas can go out tonight.” Sam laughed as Dean flipped him off. Sam could deal with hanging back. That way he wouldn’t have to get between his brother’s and the angel’s endless tension. Just as Dean was about to shut the door to the bathroom, he couldn’t help but add, “Remember to use protection.”

Dean made a noise that sounded similar to a cat dying.

“Don’t worry, Sam. We will.” Cas’ answer made it impossible for Sam to hold back his laughter. Dean seemed to die again in the small bathroom.

Sometimes their angel didn’t quite get sarcasm.


	7. I AIN'T PLAYIN' SHAWN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A full Psych chapter. Sorry to the SPN readers. Slowly trying to get back to writing again. Picked up a third job and a got a kindle fire. So been very distracted lol.  
> Dropping hints again at possible pairings. Shassie and Gus/Juliet. :D  
> Comments, kudos and yada yada ya'll  
> Gabi  
> <3<3<3

“Uh Shawn. You wanna tell why you dragged my black ass out here in the middle of the night?” Gus huffed out beside his best friend of the last, _cough cough_ , too many years. He squealed out as Shawn yanked him down behind one of the many stacks of empty barrels littering the abandoned lot.

“Because Gus, I always want your chocolatey sweetness with me on stake outs.” Shawn whispered in a mock hushed tone, though meaning every word. Shawn held out an offering of his box of jelly beans. Gus snatched it out of his hands, accepting the bribe. “I need you backing me up man.”

“Shawn. I don’t know if you noticed but we are currently hiding outside of an abandoned warehouse, in the dark I might add, and I’m pretty sure that I stepped in something over there that has permanently damaged the integrity of my new Pumas.” Gus still couldn’t figure out why he followed Shawn on these crazy schemes. They somehow always ended up in trouble. But one thing he had learned in the past few months was to be extra cautious. Even if Shawn hated him for it.

“Spencer, Guster. Want to explain to me why for the love of Chuck Norris we are here?” Lassiter’s cool tone came out of the darkness behind them. He didn’t even blink as they squealed, and bounced against the barrels. He just rolled his eyes and waited. He hated to admit it but Spencer generally knew what he was doing, when he wasn’t being a pain in Carlton’s ass down at the station.

“Lassie-frass! Jules!” Shawn exclaimed at seeing the pretty blonde junior detective beside the pretty, gangly head detective. “What are you doing here?”

“You tell us, Shawn. I got a call from Gus saying that you may have sensed something down at this address.” Juliet waved her pink Razor at him.

“Yeah, Spencer. Enlighten us. What did you ‘ _sense_ ’?” Lassiter mocked.

Shawn jumped up and stepped annoyingly closer to Detective Lassiter. Tapping his fingers to his temple, he arched one of his perfectly man-scaped brows. “I’ve divined that the killer must be within this building.”

They all turned to look at the decrepit warehouse behind him.

“Or they could be in that one over there. Maybe even down on the Del Taco around the next block. Possibly even-” Shawn was cut off from his tangent as Gus slapped the back of his head. “Suffice it to say, that the killer will be in this general area.”

“Spencer.” The name came out a growl between Lassiter’s clenched teeth. He really hated it when Shawn wasted their time like this.

“Hey this isn’t an exact science I’m working with here. I can only work with what the spirits send me.” Shawn explained. Behind him Gus snorted.

“Right.” Lassiter rolled his eyes. “But you should have waited for us before coming down here. These building are condemned for a reason. They’re dangerous.”

“Shawn. I can’t believe you let Juliet come out here when there is a dangerous killer on the loose.” Gus chided. He slapped Shawn’s arm hard, but not enough to drop the candy.

“Dude, will you stop hitting me,” Shawn slapped him back. In seconds they were doing a ridiculous back and forth of play slapping and speaking nonsense under their breath. “Beside’s, _you’re_ the one who called her.”

Lassiter reached out to stop their immature behavior. Gripping the back of Shawn’s collar, he pulled the psychic roughly. “Will you behave?”

“Never. I have never _haved_ in my life,” he answered, stressing a long-A. “Not to my knowledge anyway.”

“Gus, as sweet as that is, I am an armed officer of the law. I can handle myself.” Juliet said with a smile, ignoring Shawn’s childish outburst completely.

“I know that. And in normal circumstances, I would be hiding right behind you while you took out the bad guys. But this killer seems to have a type. I don’t want to see you get hurt.” Gus fidgeted and looked away, slightly embarrassed by his admission.

“As much as I hate to agree with either Nancy Drew or Bess here, Guster is right, O’Hara.” Lassiter sighed. “It might be safer if you went back to the station.”

“Dude. You are _so_ Bess.” Snickering, Shawn reached out for the candy. Gus slapped his hand away.

“I ain’t playin’ Shawn. Whatever crazy scheme you’re planning, I’m out.” With that he started to walk back to the Blueberry.

“I’ll go with you.” Juliet called after him. Turning to her partner she added, “See that Shawn doesn’t get hurt, Lassiter.”

“No promises,” he grumbled. If anything Carlton was likely to shoot the ‘psychic’ himself.

*****

Once they were far enough away from the other two, Gus pulled at Juliet’s elbow, stopping her. “Do you really think that’s a good idea? Leaving them together? Lassiter might just kill him.”

“Oh he wouldn’t kill Shawn,” she laughed. Then paused, considering her hot tempered partner. “I don’t think. Maybe. At the most he might just injured him.”

“Well Shawn does tend to bring that out of people,” Gus said. He had been tempted to hurt his best friend on several occasions over the years as well. He wouldn’t because then Henry Spencer would have hurt him. At that was scary as hell.

“So can you give me a ride back to the station?” Juliet asked. Gus nodded.

“What if the chief wants to know where Lassiter is? Didn’t she just get back from her vacation?”

“She did. We can just say that Shawn and Lassiter are hunting down a lead together.”

“Like Chief Vick would believe that.”

“Or we could say that they are on a date.” Juliet joked, laughing.

They paused and glanced back at the building. Their partners had already gone inside. Gus considered for a moment. “That might be easier to buy than them working together.”

As they began to walk away, shots echoed from the building.


	8. ...Well, I Prefer Yang

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I found out today that there is going to be PSYCH the Movie. So in honor of that I knocked out a chapter of this. Cannot wait until it airs.   
> The movie, not the chapter...

“Dean. Are you sure that it was wise to leave Sam behind? We might need his help in taking out the vampire nest.” Cas asked concerned. “Besides I think you may have hurt his feelings by excluding him.”

Dean paused and rolled his eyes. “Okay no more daytime talk shows for you. Hurt his feelings? Seriously? Come on. We got a vamp to kill.” Grabbing his angel by the sleeve of his jacket, they headed into the building silently. Dean had talked Cas into wearing some of his own hunter gear. Dark clothes hid blood easier after all.

And it certainly wasn’t because it gave Dean a slight thrill to see the angel wearing his clothes. No. Not at all.

Barely five minutes into their search, they heard something they hadn’t been expecting. Gunshots rang out, echoing through the abandoned warehouse. Cas’ angel blade fell into his hand. Dean still hadn’t figured out how he kept it hidden. Dean gripped his own hatchet tighter. “Sonofabitch! Let’s go!”

They were surprised by what they found when they rounded the corner. Detective Lassiter was bleeding on the ground, the wound on his abdomen seeping. He was still weakly clutching at his weapon. Shawn knelt beside him protectively but was running off at the mouth, trying to distract the female vampire circling them.

“I can see it now. You trying to get into the sorority, and failing. So you were going to make those girls pay. With murder.” It was one of his weakest wrap ups ever but Shawn couldn’t help it. Those fangs were distracting him. Not to mention the fact that Lassie had shot her in the chest and she was still standing.

“Oh you are so, so wrong little human. I wanted them to be mine. I offered them to be with me forever. To stay young and beautiful. They all denied me. So I denied them life. Just as I will deny you and your friend the same.” She smiled, fangs white against her lips.

“Spencer run dammit!” Lassiter shouted, pointing his gun at the _vampire_. They were facing a monster. A legitimate monster. He would never look at anything the same ever again. That is, if he survived this.

“Not gonna leave you Lassie!”

“Hey you blood-sucking bitch! I taste better than them. Come and get me!” Dean taunted from across the room. Cas glared beside him, following his friend’s lead.

The vampire growled and turned away from the hunters. Four against one wasn’t a fight she was willing to face at the moment. Especially not against a freaking Winchester. Oh yes, she knew of them. What monster didn’t? She ran out of a side door, knowing that the hunter and his angel wouldn’t be that far behind. She blinked at seeing a beautiful blonde running towards the building.

The vampire attacked.

Before Juliet knew what was happening, she was held down by someone, _something._ The woman hissed, wrapping her hands around Juliet’s throat. She threw her head back, giving Juliet an eyeful of fang. Somewhere Gus was yelling. Before Juliet could take another breath the woman was gone.

No.

Not gone.

Just her head.

It plopped to the ground with a gag-inducing _goousssshh_ -plop beside Juliet. She screamed piercing the eardrums of every dog within a two block radius, her heart racing faster than ever before. Shoving the twitching body off of hers, she glanced up. Agent Gabriel stood above her, wearing flannel and a dark navy jacket. He was breathing heavily, and holding a bloody blade. There was a cold look on his face, the look of a killer. He blinked and it was gone. “You okay?” He held out a hand to help her off the ground.

She backed away from the proffered hand, scooting against the aged and cracked cement.

“You… You’re a freak! What just happened? You just killed… I…I…What…” Juliet knew she was going into shock, but she couldn’t stop it. This was worse than when Yang had captured her.

Sam pursed his lips. He wasn’t a freak dammit! “I just saved your life.”

Juliet wasn’t listening. She couldn’t. What the hell was that… that… _thing?!_ She was panicking, her heart beat racing. Someone was holding her shoulders but she didn’t know who. All she knew was that she was safe with whoever it was.

Heavy footsteps pounded closer. Dean and Cas arrived first having been following the vamp. Shawn was several yards away, half carrying a wounded Detective Lassiter. Shawn’s outer layer was missing. It had turned into a compress to stop Lassiter’s wound from bleeding too heavily. Spying Gus holding a shaking Juliet, and his annoying, so very much in trouble brother wiping off his blade, Dean growled. Castiel broke the silence first however.

“I thought that you were going to stay back at the motel?” He narrowed his eyes, though a slight smile of welcome lifted the corners of his mouth.

Sam’s face lit up with his own grin. He shrugged. “What and let you guys have all the fun?”

Dean chuckled.

“Hey guys. I could use a little help over here. Lassie is one heavy puppy.” Shawn called out, bringing focus back to the wounded detective.

“I really hate you Spencer.” Carlton said weakly.

Castiel stepped forward. His gaze was piercing as he swiftly assessed the injury. If they waited for an ambulance, the detective wouldn’t survive. Even driving straight to a hospital wouldn’t be fast enough. He had lost too much blood already. The shirt Shawn had used was now saturated completely. He spared Dean a look telling the hunter what he was about to do. At Dean’s responding nod, Castiel reached out, pressing his fingers to the lanky detective’s forehead.

He was healed instantly.

Carlton sucked in a sharp breath as something shifted through him. Then it was gone. As was the pain. Standing straighter he removed Spencer’s hold on him, letting the shirt fall to the ground. He touched his stomach. The wound was gone. In angry disbelief he turned on the ‘FBI agents’.

“Who the hell are you people?”


	9. The Truth is Really, Really Out There...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this chap is a lot longer than the others so far. And it fills in some of the random questions the boys have been having since they arrived in Santa Barbara.  
> Have to admit that this chap took a turn by itself while writing it. It became alot more angsty than intended. But fluffier in one aspect as well. We got the angst at the end of season 11. Didn't need it again.  
> Comments, kudos and yada yada as usual ya'll  
> Gabi  
> <3<3<3

Two hours and a bottle of whiskey later, the group sat in silence. After cleaning up what was left of the vampire, and destroying what evidence remained, it was obvious that they needed to regroup. It was Castiel's suggestion that they meet up with Henry Spencer as he knew about the supernatural already. He would be the one to talk with once the hunters left town.

Sam and Dean gave them all the talk as they hovered around Henry's living room. Juliet avoided all eye contact from her seat on the couch. Lassiter sat next to her with a hard look on his face. His eyes kept shifting to Castiel. He was something different, something the fake FBI agents had yet to explain. Shawn sat on the other side of the head detective, uncharacteristically silent.

And poor Gus sat in a far corner, rocking back and forth in a disturbing trance.

Dean gestured to him, asking the group. "He gonna be alright?"

Shawn spared his best friend a brief glance. He chuckled at Gus' condition. He nodded. "Yeah. Give him day or so to come to grips with it. He did the same thing when they stopped making Oreo O's."

"Dude, they just brought those back." Dean said excitedly.

That made Gus raise his head in interest. "Really?"

Dean nodded.

Stage one of Operation Rehabilitate Guster complete.

"If we could get back on point here..." Henry sighed tiredly. He had wanted to go fishing in the morning but this was taking forever. At this rate he wouldn't be going until next week.

"I have a question. What is he?" Carlton pointed to Castiel. "You've yet to say what _he_ is. He is something, right? Because he's definitely not human."

The hunters all eyed each other. It was one thing to explain that monsters were real, it was quite another to explain about trench coat wearing rebellious angels. Not that he was currently wearing his trademark coat at the moment, but that was beside the point. Castiel didn't give the hunters the chance to explain however as he pushed away from the wall.

"I'm an angel of the Lord," he said sincerely.

"Yeah right." Both Spencer men scoffed disbelieving at his declaration.

Before either Dean or Sam could come to the angel's defense someone spoke.

"He's not lying. He really is one of my angel's. A little rebellious mind you, but Castiel has always had the most caring heart when it comes to humans." The short bearded man said he manifested in the middle of the living room.

"Chuck?" questioned the Winchester's.

"Mandlebaum?" questioned Lassiter.

Then Gus spoke for the second time, surprising everyone in the room as his voice came out reverent. He stood slowly, pushing up from the chair. "God?"

The man smiled. "Right on all counts, fellas."

Then Dean had to be defiant. He waved his hand in disbelief. "Nah. No way. You can't be God. We were with you during the apocalypse and you never said anything. Cas searched for God with that necklace I used to have and nothing. Nada. Zilch."

Chuck sighed. He was expecting this. Turning to the younger Winchester, he held out his hand. "Sam. Would you mind?"

Slowly Sam emptied his pocket of the secret he had been keeping for so long. There, hanging from his clenched fist, was the pendant he had given Dean so many years ago. The same necklace that Dean had thought he had thrown out.

"Really Sam?" Dean frowned, but was frankly unsurprised that his brother had kept it. He had regretted throwing it out almost immediately after all. Still he pointed. "See? It's doing nothing. If you were God it should be all sorts of shiny, right?"

"Dean..." Castiel warned.

Chuck flipped his finger as though turning on a switch. The light that emanated from the necklace was blinding. Only Castiel could gaze at it fully without squinting. Chuck flicked his finger again, turning off the light.

"Well I don't know about the rest of you, but after that I need a drink." Henry snorted then headed over to his wet bar. After downing one he poured another. Shaking the bottle, he asked, "Anyone else?"

Chuck raised his hand.

*****

Emotions ran high and low for everyone over the next few hours. Henry ended up missing his fishing trip. Juliet spoke not one word. When both Lassiter and Shawn both grew concerned about her Chuck held her by the shoulders.

"This is heavy information. If you aren't ready for it, I can take the knowledge away," he offered kindly. She nodded, a mere bob of the head. Chuck smiled and snapped his fingers. Juliet disappeared.

"What did you do to her?" Gus yelled. His face twitched and eyes widened when he realized who he had just yelled at. "Uh, sir? If you would be so kind as to tell us what happened with our friend, we would..."

Before Gus could run off nervously at the mouth, Chuck held up a hand, stopping him. "You can relax Burton. I merely changed her memories, gave her a sense of peace. She'll still know about monsters, but any knowledge of Me? Gone. She will wake in the hospital, with 'injuries' that she came by from fighting off her attacker."

"Can you do that for any of us?" Shawn spoke quietly, avoiding eye contact. This whole day was fighting against his whole belief system.

"Yes. I can. Is that something that you really want though Shawn?"

Shawn shook his head, remaining silent. He shot Gus a look. His best friend stepped forward. "I think that, uh, I might want to forget this too. I already have faith but knowing that I met you might be more than I can handle."

"Very well. Any other takers? Last chance." Chuck set his gaze on each of the men in the room, giving them all the option of forgetting. Free will was still one of His favorite gifts to humanity. There were no takers. Henry sipped at his drink from behind the wet bar, while the rest came to separate but almost uniformed decision. He snapped His fingers, sending Burton Guster to the room beside Juliet.

"So you gonna explain why Bobby is here? Except that he's not Bobby?" Dean finally asked what had been knowing at him. "Or Zachariah?"

"Eh, let's just say that sometimes my pocket realities sometimes bleed into each other. I can use too much power on them. Gabriel always enjoyed building them with me a long time ago. Now? I bring in my favorites, recast them as it were. Evil becomes folly," he waved his hand and a hologram like image of Zachariah appears.

"Kind becomes misguided," then an image of not-Bobby replaced the coroner.

"Protective of one and twisted by lies becomes defender for truth and protector for all," Chuck waves to Carlton Lassiter.

"Lassie?" Shawn said confused.

Chuck waved his hand again. A familiar image of a long haired bearded man, holding the jawbone of an ass appeared beside the detective. The hunters all said in varying degrees of disbelief, "Cain!"

" _Sonofabitch_! I knew he looked familiar. Couldn't tell with that awful haircut." Dean snorted.

Carlton shouted, completely offended by Dean's comment. "Hey!"

"Who else is here? Who else that we lost?" Sam didn't know whether to hope or fear what the answer would be.

"Both too many to count and not the ones you want." Chuck knew, knew Sam was thinking of Jess. Of Madison. Of Gabriel. Sam nodded understanding and accepting.

Chuck looked around the room. He rubbed his hands together. He had some work that he wanted to get to, something he should have probably done a while ago. "Well as fun as this has been fellas, I better be off. Sam, Dean, Castiel. I'll be seeing you boys again, I'm sure of it. Give me call sometime. We'll get a drink, catch up."

With no room to either accept or refuse, Chuck snapped his fingers and was gone.

"Holy fuck," the angel said in disbelief at all that had transpired that night. Dean was clearly rubbing off on him.


	10. ...NOW...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Note: Cas' taste in music in this is similar to my own, so I'm really only making fun of myself.  
> Comments, kudos, and yada yada yada ya'll  
> Gabi  
> <3<3<3

The trip to Santa Barbara was not what the hunters had in mind. Sure exposing the supernatural world to civilians was an occasional side effect of the job. People died, and were injured? Standard. Finding out monsters were real? Of course. Eating celebratory pie? A definite. Sam throwing a bitch face at least once a day? Was there even a question?

God appearing? Yeah not so much.

That had thrown the seasoned hunters off their game. Finding out that God was the former prophet, the hack writer of the Winchester Gospel, was completely not even... shouldn't have been... There weren't words for how they all felt.

Giving up trying to come to some grasp on everything they were feeling, they all decided to ignore the life altering information to be put aside until later.

Henry kicked everyone out once it was clear that there wasn't going to be any more celestial houseguests appearing. He muttered something about fishing before slamming the door on the hunters, detective, and son.

Once outside Dean gave the head Detective their contact information just in case something came up in their wheelhouse again. It wasn't unexpected that the lanky man afterwards asked them to vacate his city.

"It's not that I don't want you here. Really," the tall blue eyed man started. "You helped find the killer after all."

Sam waved away the attempted excuse. "Don't worry. We get it."

"Yeah. Our next stops are the hotel to check out and a gas station to fill up. We'll be out of you hair in no time." Dean finished for his brother. The needed to get some sleep in all honesty. They had been up for almost 36 hours at this point. Perhaps just this once he would have Cas drive for the first stretch with he caught up on his usual four hours.

*****

"So. Can I get a ride?"

The Santa Barbara head detective stood next to the bane of his existence as they watched the black Impala drive away. The last several hours had changed everything he knew, leaving him shaken. Carlton spared a glance to the shorter man beside him. "Sure, Shawn. Let's go."

Shawn gasped. "Now I know the world has gone topsy-turn-a-kit. You just called me Shawn."

"It's tospy-turvy." Carlton corrected. His eyes narrowed against the brightness of the morning sunlight across the water.

"I've heard it both ways," Shawn lied, easily riling up the sleep deprived detective.

Their argument continued as the walked out to Lassiter's car. From his stance beside his front window, Henry Spencer rolled his eyes. "Idiots."

*****

"So. Chuck?" Dean gesticulated as though weighing something that he had no clue how to even hold. Lights blinded him momentarily from the rusted minivan tailing a little too close to Baby's bumper. "Weird little writer dude who was Becky's ex-boyfriend before being Sam's ex-wife."

"Shut up Dean." Sam punched his brother in the arm. He didn't want to really think about it. Not to say that the thought hadn't crossed his own mind the second Chuck revealed who he was earlier. He didn't really know how to process that.

"That same Chuck... is God." Dean smacked his brother in the chest in retaliation.

"Dean. Please pay attention to the road. I doubt that Chuck would be all that thrilled if we died so soon after learning about him." Castiel said from the back seat of the Impala. He was still upset over being relegated back to his usual spot. He had been enjoying the view from the driver's seat while he had had it.

Dean had only allowed Castiel to drive for a couple of hours before they pulled into a motel after leaving Santa Barbara. It turns out Dean didn't want the angel driving after he had the gall for enforcing one of Dean's own rules.

"You've always said that the one in charge of guiding the vehicle is in charge also of the musical selection," the blue eyed angel had pouted.

Which wasn't as adorable as it looked, Dean argued with himself. "It's driver picks the music and shotgun shuts his cakehole. But what you're listening to ain't music."

At some point Castiel had found not only a Barry Manilow cassette that he apparently enjoyed but a Wham! cassette as well. Sam on the other hand laughed at his brother's intense annoyance.

They had pulled over to the motel soon after that. Twelve hour later they were back on the road headed to the bunker, discussing God as Chuck among other things. Like food.

"Hey pull over there. I don't think there's much else to eat for a while." Sam pointed at the sign directing traffic to a local burrito place.

"Oh, no way in hell man," Dean argued, shaking his head.

"Why not?" Sam's confused puppy face making a daily appearance.

Castiel's stoic response beat Dean to the point. Keeping his eyes on his book he uttered, "Because you become very flatulent after eating such meals Sam."

Dean barked with laughter, his head thrown back. "What he said, Sammy."

Sam pouted and turned away to look out the window. "Shut up and drive, Dean."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, there it is folks. I hope you've enjoyed. I know I left it at a weird spot but I do want to return to this universe in the furture. (possibly turn this into a series?) Who knows. But for now thanks to everyone who bothered to read this silly thing of mine.  
> I do have some plot bunnies for both the SPN side and Psych side to continue, (mainly to get my slash stories in), let me know below!  
> Gabi


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